


made on the sixth day

by saekhwa



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Episode Tag, F/F, Female Character of Color, POV Character of Color, Season/Series 01, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: Clarice's memories were unreliable, but she knew, at least, she wasn't alone.





	made on the sixth day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/gifts).



> Spoilers for ep 1.10. Things this show didn't need to do. _That._ So fuck that noise and have some fix-it fic.

_She can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe—_

Something hit her neck. Sentinel, she thought. It had stabbed her, and she was going to bleed out. Quickest way to go, all things considered. Better than— But the sharp point at her neck exploded into hundreds that coursed through her body, tossing her up into the air. 

She jolted awake, heaving, clawing at the thing choking her, desperate for air. 

When she finally managed a lungful, she'd forgotten about the nightmare. She threw one arm over her eyes and kept steady with one breath in and one breath out. 

But then Sonya, voice soft in the dark, asked, "Bad dreams?"

Clarice flinched as it all came rushing back — Norah and their foster parents and the first time Sentinel Services had gotten a hold of her. The memories faded, one by one, and left her cold and shivering in the current nightmare, where the collar weighed heavy around her neck, her fingers stinging from the way she'd clawed at the metal. And she had the _worst_ cotton mouth, bad enough that her throat hurt just from breathing. 

She sat up and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wincing at the dry, chafed feel of her own skin as she looked over at Sonya, who was no more than a dark outline. She was sitting on the same hard cot that Clarice had, her back to the wall, holding one leg against her chest. 

"Hey," Clarice said, and slid off the cot, inching toward the bars that divided their cells. "Is this…?"

Sonya turned to look at her and waited, but Clarice didn't know what the hell she wanted to ask. They were screwed and it was all because she'd panicked in the halls. The fear should've helped. 

She retreated back to her own cot and hugged her legs to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees. 

"It'll… be okay," Sonya eventually said. 

Clarice snorted. "Worst pep talk I have ever heard." 

She expected Sonya to laugh, but when the silence stretched on a little too long, Clarice glanced at Sonya, aware she probably hadn't seen it as a joke at all. It was too dark to see her face to know for sure. 

Clarice swallowed. "Johnny," she said, and winced. "John," she corrected, and rubbed her head as if it'd be that easy to snuff out the memory. She lowered her legs to the floor, gripping the edge of the cot. "He'll find you. He…" Sonya's memory pulsed inside her. "He loves you."

If she closed her eyes, she'd see them again in the rain. Her heart beat faster just thinking about it, _feeling_ it — not John but Sonya's love, warm and heady, a speck of hope that was a little too easy to cling to. 

~*~

She was at the farmhouse… 

"Clarice?"

They were screaming. 

"Can you hear me? Clarice?"

The Sentinels wouldn't stop and the screaming, the other kids were shrieking stop, please stop—

She bolted up, flailing, smacking the wall so hard that her hand went numb. She clutched her hand and turned so sharply away from the wall that she tumbled off the bed. The impact of her elbow meeting the concrete floor made her hiss and whimper, but god, she'd needed it. She was awake and convulsively swallowed, pressing her cheek against the cool, rough texture of the floor. She was okay, she was okay, she was okay, and she matched her breathing to the mantra, echoing—

It took her way too long to realize it was Sonya, saying her name, telling her— But Sonya wasn't on the bed. Clarice shoved herself up, frantically searching for—

She exhaled, shoulders slumping, when she finally found Sonya, crouched on the floor, her knuckle-white fists wrapped around the bars. 

How long had…? There weren't any windows, but the lights were on, and that meant it was some approximation of day. Clarice couldn't remember… 

She shook her head and crawled over to Sonya, ready to pat her hand and tell her everything was okay. Hollow words, but the only ones they had for now. The moment Clarice touched Sonya, though, she grabbed her with both hands, smothering a sob against Sonya's dry knuckles. It was so unlike Clarice that she couldn't help but wonder: _what did they do to me?_

Sonya didn't say anything. She rested a hand on top of Clarice's head, dragged it down in a slow, steady slide as she murmured… something. It was all white noise to the panicked questions rattling around in Clarice's head, filling up the gaps between getting dragged out of the cell, the needle, and a mutant with sallow skin and sunken eyes. 

" _Don't_ ," Clarice choked. 

Sonya froze. Clarice dug her fingers into Sonya's arm before she could pull away. 

"No. I meant—" Clarice rubbed her face against her arm, expecting to wipe away tears, but there was nothing. Just the itch of her own skin. She'd been crying, hadn't she? She'd thought…

"It's okay," Sonya whispered again and again, drawing Clarice as close as she could. 

~*~

Sonya hung limp in the guards' arms, her feet dragging across the floor, her skin paler than usual, and her hair matted in the back. They flung her onto the cot, and Clarice — jaw clenched, hands balled into fists — wanted to kill them. 

The thought was so raw and immediate that she staggered from it, breath catching, the room fading away. Was it them? Did they use a telepath on her or—

"Sonya," she said through her teeth. But she waited for the guards to leave before she rushed over to the bars. 

Sonya tried to sit up but didn't make it, falling back to the bed with a whimper that pissed Clarice off all over again. 

"Hey, I'm here," Clarice said. "It's okay. We'll get out of this."

"Clarice?" Sonya asked.

Clarice trembled at how soft it sounded, how unsure, and she weakly laughed, "Yeah," trying to make a joke of it but unable to form anything past a shaky exhale. 

She closed her eyes, just for a second, and when she opened them, Sonya was at the bars, leaning against them, fingers uselessly stretching toward Clarice. Clarice dropped to her knees so fast that her teeth clacked as she grabbed hold of Sonya's hand. 

"You should've—" Clarice stopped herself because she should've said _it'll be okay_ first. 

"They didn't ask about the Underground," Sonya whispered. 

Clarice tried meeting her eyes, but Sonya's were too distant, unfocused, almost glassy. 

"Did they ask you?" 

Clarice… couldn't remember. Had they asked her anything? They hadn't even responded to her snark before they— 

"No," she said, and shook her head, mouth gone dry and throat gone tight again. "But—" She swallowed and tried a smile. "I hate twenty questions. It always just seemed annoying, you know?"

Sonya's eyes shimmered, and Clarice straightened, reaching between the bars to touch Sonya's shoulder. 

"It's— I'm just kidding. I'd never—"

Sonya exhaled a loud, shaky breath. It took Clarice a second to realize that was a laugh. She laughed, too, a little too nervous and high, but it— Laughing was good. It helped in situations like this, right? 

After a while, Clarice moving just enough to shift her legs out from under her before they fell asleep, Sonya asked, "Did you play any board games? When you were with…?" She glanced up like she was checking to see whether she was allowed to say it. Mama D. 

Clarice's eyes immediately stung. She nodded. "Oh yeah. Tons."

"What was your favorite?"

"Candy Land," Clarice deadpanned.

Sonya looked up at Clarice again, more present and definitely like she knew Clarice was lying. Clarice grinned. Maybe this would become an inside joke. Something that belonged to just the two of them. A memory Clarice could pull up when she needed to focus. 

~*~

Clarice stared at the gun like the flat black of it would fade into nothing as long as she didn't look away. She'd already failed at not blinking. Already failed at telling the kids to shut up and just do what the doc wanted before he murdered them all. She'd failed so much and failed so many people. 

And these stupid kids kept arguing. What choice did they have? What choice did _any of them_ have? 

Even Sonya was telling them, "Don't do it." Like there wasn't a gun pointed at her head. Like she wouldn't be the one who'd have to pay the price. 

When humans pointed guns at mutants, they died. Even if another human stood in the way. Like Mama D. The kids at the farmhouse. Too many mutants to count. 

The room blurred, and the kids were still saying no. The gun came back into focus, and Clarice lunged, screamed, "Stop being selfish brats and just do what he wants!"

She didn't get far before the guard was jerking her back, hand raised to probably backhand her to get her to shut up. She braced for it, shoulders hunched, teeth bared. 

"Okay. Okay!" Andy said, and looked at his sister, who'd set her jaw like this was still a game. 

"Just do it," Clarice whispered. "Get us out of here."

"Lauren," Andy said, holding his hand out to her. 

Lauren stared and stared. Long enough for the doc to raise the gun again, finger fitting to the trigger. One small motion and it'd be—

Clarice almost sobbed with relief when Lauren finally took Andy's hand, letting her brother help her to her feet. 

"Please, don't misunderstand," the doc said, smile smug as he glanced at Clarice, "you won't escape that room."

Clarice didn't care. He took his finger off the trigger and lowered the gun, and Sonya was alive. Clarice's knees almost buckled, but she locked them as she stared at the screen, like everyone else, watching the kids glow. They raised their arms, everything about them brighter. Like a story Clarice had once heard. Some mutants glow, and usually that meant…

Andy's and Lauren's mouths parted, lips pulling back, their snarl turning into a scream that Clarice could feel trapped inside her own chest. There was power there, and for a wild second, she really, truly thought they were going to do it. They'd tear down the wall, rip apart the doc and guards, and get them out of here. 

The TV screen fell first, shattering to the floor in sparks that seemed to bounce as the rest of the room lit up. Wires falling loose from the ceiling seconds before the wall buckled and blew out. Andy and Lauren were still screaming. Clarice could hear it even though the screen was broken, like maybe their powers had amplified, like maybe that _was_ their power, warping the walls and machines. 

"Turn the collars back on!" the doc shouted.

And Clarice still watched, wide-eyed, waiting for a miracle that didn't come. 

~*~

"You shouldn't have told them to do that," Sonya whispered, head hung low, hair concealing her face. 

"Nope," Clarice said, shaking her head. "No, I don't want to hear it."

"Clarice."

With the way the sound pushed up, raw and scratchy from Clarice's throat, she thought she might scream. She laughed instead, hollow and bitter, falling heavily onto the cot. "Okay. Okay, let's play it out then. Let's say…" She waved a hand. "The kids did what _you_ wanted. They don't do what the doc wants. Bam." She clapped her hands together, but Sonya didn't even flinch. "You're dead. And guess what? They do what he wants anyway! In _my_ scenario." She hadn't even been aware she'd shot to her feet until she was almost at the bars. She held them so tightly that she could barely feel her fingers. "You don't die. You're alive to bitch about the fact that you're alive."

Sonya shook her head, and this close, Clarice could see her lips part, like she still wanted to argue the point. Instead, she shut her mouth, lips curling in a soft, sad smile that made something in Clarice's chest tremble. 

"Careful there, Clarice." Sonya's gaze flicked up, pinning Clarice in place. "It almost sounds like you care."

Clarice tried to laugh but couldn't. Not enough air for it, so she closed her eyes, wishing she'd stayed on the cot, where she'd have the fall of her own hair to hide her face. 

Her skin prickled when Sonya's fingers slid over hers. They were standing so close that she could see how the skin had split all across Sonya's chapped lips. They'd lost so much already. Not just the comfort of a normal, average life but… 

Clarice slid her thumb over Sonya's hand, closing her eyes again while they leaned against each other despite the bars. She couldn't say it out loud, but it thrummed inside her all the same: _I don't want to lose you, too_.


End file.
